


Two Weeks Notice

by zelempa



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-23
Updated: 2008-05-23
Packaged: 2017-10-05 12:36:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zelempa/pseuds/zelempa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You take me for granted," Rodney barreled on. "You'll be lost without me!"</p><p>"I take you for granted!" Zelenka stood, now, his stupid Freecell game forgotten. "You have no idea how much I do around here..."</p><p>"Of course I do! You take care of all the, the little things I don't care about, thus freeing me up to do the real work. Why do you think I've kept you around all this time?"</p><p>"That is wonderful," said Zelenka. "I am your bitch boy."</p><p>"Yes!" cried Rodney, delighted that he understood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Weeks Notice

**Monday**

"Now that we're back in contact with Earth," Carter began, and then paused, as if expecting applause. Rodney looked up from his housekeeping of the citywide network code. Sheppard was creating the illusion of a rubber pencil; Zelenka was busy with a laptop, probably playing Freecell. Freecell was one of the many impossible and thoroughly pointless skills at which Radek excelled, like pigeon farming and crocheting and Ruby on Rails.

Carter continued, "There will be some important personnel changes in the next few weeks. We have some fresh faces in the science team"--Rodney sighed loudly; newbies were more trouble than they were worth--"and we'll be saying goodbye to some of our own." This was no surprise. Every time they were back in contact with Earth after a division, a handful of people left, afraid it was their last chance. Rodney thought of these people dismissively as "weekenders": people who weren't in it for the long haul. Carter read a few unfamiliar names, people too recent or unimportant to have made it onto Rodney's radar.

"Finally," she concluded, "I've just learned that two weeks from today, our own Dr. Radek Zelenka will be taking over as head of engineering back at Cheyenne." Zelenka ducked his head in acknowledgement of the sudden stares and then focused back on his screen, as if that would be the end of it. "Please join me in congratulating him on his promotion, and in granting him our best wishes. I know I'm new around here, but I think I speak for all of us when I say he will be deeply and sincerely missed."

"You don't speak for me!" said Rodney, jumping out of his seat. "Zelenka, what the hell?"

"Oh. Yes. I apologize for not telling you sooner, Rodney," said Zelenka, sparing him a glance. "I just found out about it myself."

"You only just found out that you applied for and got a job at Stargate Command?"

Zelenka shrugged in a way that was probably supposed to convey humility, but it was obvious he was smirking inside. "I did not think that I would get it."

"Of course you'd get it! You've been on Atlantis! We solve twenty problems in the time it takes them to get their morning coffee requisition form! Only a complete idiot would consider leaving Atlantis a good career move. Are you a complete idiot, Zelenka?"

"The evidence does suggest that, yes," said Zelenka coldly. "I have continued to work for you for three years."

"Working for me is the best thing that could have happened to you! Anyone with half a brain would kill to work for me!"

"Moving right along," said Carter anxiously.

"You take me for granted," Rodney barreled on. "You'll be lost without me!"

"I take _you_ for granted!" Zelenka stood, now, his stupid Freecell game forgotten. "You have no idea how much I do around here..."

"Of course I do! You take care of all the, the little things I don't care about, thus freeing me up to do the real work. Why do you think I've kept you around all this time?"

"That is wonderful," said Zelenka. "I am your bitch boy."

"Yes!" cried Rodney, delighted that he understood.

"I did not get a PhD to collect various fruits for your basket!"

"That was you?" asked Carter. "Thank you. It was very nice!"

"Hey, picking a couple of berries is a small price to pay for all the really cool stuff you get to do," said Rodney.

"Oh, yes, the cool stuff, like cleaning up after explosions, or comforting people who are crying, or meddling with control panels underwater, or in outer space, or with shots flying," he illustrated with frantic hand motions, "or _debugging your code_." He shuddered.

"Well, you do those things well!" Rodney shouted, angry, more than anything else, that Zelenka had forced him into a compliment in front of all these people.

"I know!" said Zelenka. "And it would be nice to get some recognition for it, instead of opening up the email with the new declassified paper, 'Theoretical Models for Molecular Stabilization in Cross-Dimensional Travel' by Dr. Rodney McKay."

"Hey, practically everything in that paper was proved wrong by our later work; you should thank me for taking the _blame_."

"It is still lightyears ahead of the rest of the research in that field!"

"Exactly!" Rodney shouted. "We're the only ones doing this stuff! What do you want to go back to Earth for? You may as well go back in time to the Dark Ages, which, by the way, we have a lot better chance of doing than they do!"

"The SGC is doing exciting work these days."

"Yeah, right," snorted Rodney. "Exciting work in the field of collating TPS reports."

"And building small, maneuverable aircraft equipped with hyperdrive...."

"You're going to be designing planes?"

"Don't encourage him, Sheppard," Rodney snapped. "He's not going."

"The decision is made, Rodney. Two weeks from today, I will be gone."

"You," said Rodney, waving his index finger at Zelenka. "You know what you are? A quitter."

"And you are an arrogant micromanaging ass." Zelenka pronounced the insult with clear precision, as if he were reading off a gate address, which was somehow more maddening than if he'd shouted.

"And _you_ are a whiny little ingrate!"

At which point Zelenka launched into a complicated series of epithets in Czech, and Carter stood up, clapped her hands, and declared, "Adjourned!"

 

**Tuesday**

"Revenge? That's a ridiculous notion. I don't even care," said Rodney. "Good riddance to bad rubbish, that's what I say."

"Just asking." Sheppard swung back and forth in the rolling chair. "Cause the last time we took him to M7G-677--"

"It's not my problem. Look, I don't see where this is an issue. Is this a critical mission?"

Sheppard shrugged. "Just a check-in."

"Fine, then I'm much more valuable here."

"Okay." Sheppard glided out of the chair. "I'll go break the news to Dr. Z. I'm sure he'll be thrilled."

Rodney waved him off and turned back to the daily energy consumption numbers he'd been pretending to find fascinating while Sheppard had been talking. He blinked. Now that he paid real attention to them, they _were_ fascinating, in an accident-by-the-side-of-the-road kind of way.

"Who perpetrated this?" he bellowed.

The "scientists" looked up, frozen, as one, in terror, and then scuttled into various shadowy corners.

Rodney rubbed his temples. Since Zelenka had announced his imminent departure, Rodney had half-pragmatically, half-petulantly shifted almost all of his duties to other underlings, but now he remembered why he didn't, as a rule, do that. He sighed and sat down to waste a couple of hours redoing everyone else's work.

Every fix brought to mind nine others that had to be made; his inbox was pinging like mad; and his to-do list had just officially spiraled out of control when some Swedish or Finnish or otherwise Scandinavian or possibly Germanic doctor edged up to him.

"I, uh," he said, thrust a tablet into Rodney's hand, and dashed off.

"What..." Rodney examined it. "Oh, for fuck's sake! Don't tell me you all _broke_ the water distribution system designed by the freaking _Ancients_. Come on, now. A couple of millennia of neglect, no problem, pure hot water right out of the tap, but you guys mess with it for a _day_ and it's _shot_. Where did you people _come from_?"

"To be fair," piped up one particularly brave/stupid American (or Armenian), "the training here is very sink-or-swim, and we've never had to--"

"Shut up, you," moaned Rodney. "I hate you all."

 

**Wednesday**

"Whatcha doin'?"

"Writing an email to Zelenka's new bosses at Cheyenne." Rodney shot an evil eye across the mess, to the back of Zelenka's head, and said loudly enough to be heard, "Is 'underachiever' one word or two?"

Sheppard put his tray down, closed Rodney's laptop almost on his fingers, and gave him a pudding before he could object. "Have you ever considered that you catch more flies with honey?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Rodney around a mouthful of chocolate vanilla swirl.

 

**Thursday**

Rodney found Zelenka quietly recalibrating the water system.

"Hey," he said. "Don't--"

Zelenka looked up with a weary "what now?" expression.

"I mean, yes," said Rodney. "Good. It's good, that you're doing that. I always spend less time fixing your mistakes than anyone else's."

"That is my greatest ambition," said Zelenka gravely.

"I mean, sure, you always allocate too many resources to the botany labs," Rodney continued, kind of getting into this "honey" thing, "but at least you've heard of the word 'efficiency,' unlike some of the wanton wasters whose job this supposedly is. In fact, I'd go so far as to say--"

"I am on top of this, Rodney," said Zelenka. "I will let you know when I am finished."

Rodney frowned. Obviously he'd have to be more direct. "You're good at your job!" he barked.

Zelenka paused, and then turned his face up slowly from the display. "Rodney? Are you ill?"

"Never mind," Rodney muttered, hot-faced. Maybe he _was_ a little feverish. "Just kidding. Goodbye."

 

**Friday**

"What the hell!" cried Rodney. "I take back everything good I ever said about you."

"You may have it," said Zelenka.

"You may not have realized this, so I'm going to lay it out for you: the improvements I made to the water system? Were _improvements_. You weren't supposed to undo them!"

"You think in ten minutes you can improve on the Ancients' system?"

"Yes! I do, actually! If we'd ever taken the time to really look at it, we'd see there are some obvious inconsistencies in the way they streamline--"

"It must have been for a reason; they would have fixed something like that--"

"You think they're infallible? Only one person is infallible around here, and that's me!" Rodney declared. "I'm putting it back the way I had it. You, go, go outside and play."

 

**Saturday**

"Stop gloating."

"Gloating is inconsistent with standing knee-deep in water," said Zelenka. "I am simply informing you that our reserves drop below the red line in ten minutes. But there is good news," he continued brightly. "I will be gone before the dehydration and dysentery begin."

"Excellent," said Rodney, suspiciously holding his laptop higher above the waterline. "Let's just fix this before you drown."

"What is that, a short joke? You can do better than that, Rodney." Zelenka turned back to his tablet. "I do not understand why this happened. I subtly sabotaged most of your changes to the system."

"I know. I added some different changes," said Rodney. "Better ones, I might add, and if the Ancients' code hadn't been so messy..."

"No, I assumed you would do that. I accounted for it. I..." Zelenka frowned. "Oh!" he exclaimed suddenly. "Look at this." He held out his tablet to Rodney.

"What, that? Oh, that's one of the best things. It's a subroutine that takes that, you know, the purity measurement, the one we're calling P-sub-A, and it compares it against--"

"No, no, I know, it's very good, but look here. Look, the program is ignoring this whole section. You always make this mistake. Ancient is not COBOL, you know."

"You're a laugh a minute," said Rodney, annoyed, mostly because he knew Zelenka was right. That was why he was so invaluable as a debugger, even if he did hate it; he knew Rodney's style so well that he could distinguish between boneheaded mistakes and brilliant innovations, which was at times difficult even for Rodney.

They spent the next half-hour sniping at each other for backseat coding, but when they finished the system it was more robust than it had ever been before. Rodney was a big picture kind of guy, not a piddling details kind of guy, and he'd never have caught some of the things Zelenka did. He'd just have to face it: the guy served a useful function. He'd never admit it out loud, but it was possible the science division was going to be as lost without Zelenka as Zelenka was going to be without the brilliant beacon of Rodney's genius.

 

**Sunday**

Rodney woke up in the middle of the night with a sudden brainstorm. Piddling little details! That was what computers were _for_! A simple program would make Dr. Zelenka completely irrelevant, which was handy, since he was leaving anyway. He rolled over and grabbed the nearest tablet.

He worked through his morning appointments but his stomach rumbled around ten and he brought his computer with him to the mess. He was in coding haze and he had no idea how long he stayed there or how many squares of that crumbly coffee cake kind of stuff he'd had, but at a certain point, he lost momentum. The obstacles were beginning to outweigh the inspirations. For one thing, Zelenka was actually better at hardware than programming, and in order to make the AI take over that part of the job, and check Rodney's fixes to jumpers and gates and consoles, he'd need either a whole lot of possible interface hookups or an audiovisual input, ideally both. More importantly, he couldn't count on always using the same programming languages and hardware configurations or making the same mistakes, and he didn't want to have to rewrite the thing every time they made a new innovation. The program would have to be able to adapt. He looked up through the windows. The sun was setting, the entire city was bitching at him over email, and he'd hardly gotten started.

"Thought I'd find you here. What'd you do, leave your radio in your quarters?"

Great, because amusing Colonel Sheppard was exactly the thing Rodney needed to do right now. "I happen to be busy on a project of paramount importance. I don't have time to be the personal tech support guy for everyone in this galaxy."

"It's okay. Zelenka already fixed my Xbox," said Sheppard, and wasn't that a kick in the face: not only was the little git leaving him without a code-checker, he was undermining Rodney with his teammates. Watch him make off with Rodney's coffee stash, get to Earth, and steal the affection of Rodney's cat. Affecting a mournful tone, Sheppard added, "I really don't know where we'll be without him."

"Pshh," said Rodney. "Actually, I'm nearly finished writing a simple application to replace him." It was almost true.

Sheppard peered over his shoulder and gave a nod of fake understanding, the way people tended to do during Rodney's answers to questions like "How does this technology actually work?" or "And what did you study in university?" or "Oh, you're from Ontario? What part?"

"Seriously, Rodney," said Sheppard. "Wouldn't it be easier just to be nice to him?"

"You're always telling me to do that to people," said Rodney. "You know it doesn't actually work for me, right? I'm not good at it."

"To be fair, you don't practice," said Sheppard. "Oh, speaking of people you've been mean to, broken gate on Surf'n'Sun World. For some reason they asked for you special."

"Oh, lord, those jokers," Rodney groaned. "Shoot me now."

"Come on, Rodney. How do you manage to hate paradise? Is it the white beaches, the blue waves, the pretty girls with massage oil..."

"More like UV rays, mutant sharks, and if you think I was going to let anyone smear an unknown substance on my skin, you severely underestimate my--"

"Paranoia?"

"--foresight. Certain laundry detergents give me hives, and I think I smelled something suspiciously limey in that concoction."

Sheppard got up, smirking. "Don't forget to pack your bathing suit."

Rodney made a dismissive gesture and then returned ostentatiously to his work. Immediately he remembered how directly he was headed for nowhere.

God, why was Zelenka doing this to him? He should be smacked. Or maybe Rodney could send _him_ to Surf'n'Sun. Of course, he'd probably like it, the bastard. Everyone else did.

Then again, he'd probably _like_ it. Everyone else did. Everyone else liked it a lot, actually!

Possibly Rodney had been underestimating Sheppard as a strategist.

 

**Monday**

"I don't see why we both had to come."

"Because I apparently fixed something last time I was here, so now they're under the impression that I'm a mechanic on call, and everyone on Atlantis is so in love with their stupid surf'n'sun planet that I'm not allowed to disabuse them of this notion."

"Let me rephrase," said Zelenka. "I don't see why I had to come."

"Because Colonel Carter likes to reward quitters with beach vacations," said Rodney, wagering that if he sounded bitter enough, Zelenka wouldn't question it further.

He lucked out. Zelenka simply assumed an expression of silent judgment, and they trudged on, the journey made twice as long by the sinking of their shoes into the shifting sand. From above, the relentless sun beat down. Rodney opened his mouth to complain, remembered he was supposed to be selling this planet as an example of the Natural Beauty and Wonder of the Pegasus Galaxy (You Won't Find This On EarthTM!), and closed it again.

"This is miserable," said Zelenka finally.

"Hmph," Rodney frowned. Zelenka was really starting to piss him off. (Starting to?) If he couldn't find one goddamn moment of pleasure or appreciation on the paradise planet, what hope was there for him? He may as well go back to Earth, for all he appreciated being here. His plan wasn't working, Zelenka was being a whiny bitch, and on top of that, Rodney's face itched, his back and shoulders were baking in his dark shirt, and he was walking on something pointy. "Okay, how is it that there's sand in my _watertight boots?_ I--" Oh, whoops. Rodney shut up so suddenly that Zelenka glanced at him quizzically.

Screw it. "Plus, I'm getting a sunburn!" Nobody could possibly expect him to maintain a positive upbeat attitude while his face was peeling off.

"I'm sorry," said Zelenka, but he didn't sound sorry. "What do you want me to do?"

"Give me your jacket to hold over my head."

"Gladly." Zelenka had been carrying his jacket since they left the jumper. He'd chosen in his infinite wisdom to wear a long-sleeved shirt underneath. He was going to get heatstroke and die; at least the science division was semi-prepared to do without him.

They finally reached the sentries who escorted them to the main pavilion. The chieftain or mayor or prince-lord or whatever his title was--the one Rodney had yelled at, but, apparently, impressed--emerged from one of the white-roofed huts and greeted them with wide outstretched arms. Zelenka stepped back dubiously. Rodney knew how he felt; he hoped it was a gesture of "observe the magnificence of my domain" and not "give us a hug!" But the mayor, or chieftain, dropped his arms when he came closer, and there was the usual welcome-to-our-fair-land song and dance. The mayor assumed that they intended to spend the evening enjoying the pleasures of the village before heading out to make the repairs in the morning, and Rodney agreed with a ready "Yes, fine, fine," before Zelenka could finish protesting.

"Our beaches and glens are at your disposal; and we are known across many lands for our fine and ancient tradition, passed down from generation to generation since time immemorial, of erotic massage." The prince-lord gestured backward at a triad of nubile young women in diaphanous robes, who bowed their heads and blinked flirtatiously at the ground in the general area of the guests.

"Oh, excellent," Zelenka murmured. "Exploitation of the underclass."

Rodney turned to Zelenka, boggling. The massage-based culture had made him vaguely uncomfortable the last time he'd been there, mainly for reasons of vanity--these girls were surrounded by washboard abs and bronzed skin all day, and he panicked that they'd think he was some kind of hideous cave-dwelling slug-creature--but he'd never even thought to be uncomfortable about exploiting the underclass. How Zelenka saw beautiful girls and thought "workers of the world unite," Rodney didn't know, but it was kind of priceless.

"Okay, yeah, no thanks on that," Rodney told the chieftain. "Can we just get something to eat?"

He should have known the chieftain would have a whole banquet planned. Practically the entire town gathered around a long bench covered in bowls of suspicious-looking fruit and an entire roast porcine of some kind. The chief and a couple of his friends sat across from Rodney and eagerly watched him eat and tried to impress him with their pseudoscientific theories. They seemed to assume Zelenka was a member of the underclass; he sat next to Rodney, but some massage girls were on his other side, staring at the table in front of him and nervously giggling in lieu of engaging him in meaningful conversation. Rodney kept an eye on them. The last thing he needed was for someone to specifically come out and call Zelenka on his second-fiddle status, and remind him why he was going. The chief and his pals did their best to distract him, though. They had an interest in science, but a complete inability to understand it; they questioned Rodney endlessly about the workings of his equipment, of the gate, of the universe in general, but blinked vacantly during his particularly-stupid-child-level explanations, and then interrupted him with questions like "And who imbued this--'handheld'--with life?" Finally Zelenka piped up, informing them earnestly that it was powered by tiny elves. Rodney coughed violently, and Zelenka covered for him by making an "Oops! I have said too much" face.

After the walk in the sun and the heavy dinner they were ready for bed, so a pair of the girls from the oppressed proletariat showed them to their little guest hut, inconveniently located about a jillion miles away from the main village for the purposes of (a) impressing people like Sheppard with the undisturbed seaside vista and (b) personally paining Rodney. They arrived at their destination about ten minutes after Rodney was totally sure his legs were going to rebel and refuse to carry him any further, and he'd end up sleeping facedown in the sand. The girls left them and set out back to town, cheerful and unwinded and undoubtedly pitying the alien scientists for their apparent tragic cardiovascular diseases.

"I call the bed," said Rodney. The bag of leaves that passed for a mattress would undoubtedly be terrible for his back, but right now, it looked as good as a goosefeather bed.

In direct violation of the international law of dibs, Zelenka threw himself down onto the bed and was instantly asleep, or pretended to be. Well, great. That left the floor and the weird bench thing, but they looked extremely uncomfortable, and what the hell, Zelenka hadn't even called it properly. Rodney shoved him over, claimed a side of the bed, and went to sleep.

 

**Tuesday**

Rodney drifted awake still exhausted and aching. It had gotten suddenly cold during the night, and they must have huddled together for warmth in their sleep, because Radek's back was pressed against Rodney's chest and Rodney had an arm slung around him like he was his own personal plushie C3P0. (What? Didn't everybody have one?) Rodney moved his arm, because this was a little too close, thanks, especially since Radek had taken his shirt off at some point. But there was no sense in waking him up, so Rodney didn't move away.

He really wasn't a bad bunkmate; warm, and space-efficient. He slept curled up in a little ball, and he was thin, more so than you'd expect if you mostly saw him in bulky jackets and laden down with gear, and if you were not, generally, that observant of him. He had that pale, skinny, squishy-yet-sometimes-surprisingly-muscular physique characteristic of the nerd suddenly thrown into life-or-death situations on a routine basis.

It was weird, actually, how uncomfortable he wasn't. It occurred to him that Radek was one of the few people in the galaxy that he could comfortably share such close quarters with. He had shared pretty tight spaces with Sheppard over the course of his off-world adventures--tents, creepy caves, abandoned space shuttles and the like--and he was getting used to it, but there was always a feeling that he was being judged, and found wanting. Sheppard always had the upper hand. He had relaxed pretty completely around Carson, but he was gone now. When Radek left, who would there be?

Beside him Radek twitched in what was either a shiver or a dream about rabbits. Rodney put his arm back over him, and fell back to sleep.

When he woke up next it was bright daylight and hot again, and Radek was leaning over him with an accusing expression. "You put sand in the bed."

"Yeah, well, you smell," said Rodney.

"That, again, is you."

Rodney sniffed his underarm, and then granted Radek his premise. "Give me a break. We're stranded on a rock with no advanced plumbing."

"There is an ocean."

And that was how, despite Rodney's protestations and pointed refusal to bring a swimsuit as Sheppard has suggested, he found himself bathing in the ocean anyway, hovering in the scant shade of a pathetically small shrub. He was standing with his arms folded, working on a mental flowchart of just all the ways this was unsatisfactory and inferior to the clean, sterile privacy of the Atlantis showers when he was suddenly cascaded with cold water. When he looked around, sputtering, Radek was ten feet away, quietly examining an anemone.

"What was that?" Rodney exclaimed.

Radek looked up, all casual and surprised. Yeah, right. Who else was it going to be?

"I've got my eye on you," said Rodney.

"Joy," said Radek, deadpan.

When they finally got down to the village the mayor had suddenly decided to care about when his gate got fixed; he was sore at the visitors for sleeping in and wasting daylight, even though, as Rodney was careful to point out, they could have been done by now if they had been allowed to start work the previous night. Radek grabbed Rodney's elbow and shook his head, a "don't waste your breath" gesture, and the mayor ran off to find a pretty little guide to show them the way.

The repair was fairly simple, the kind of thing that Rodney could have gotten done in an hour, but Zelenka was there, so he got it done in twenty-five minutes. They sent the girl back to town with the news, shrugged at each other, and gated back home.

Of course, they walked from the airy, tranquil gateroom into a lab so chaotic it may as well have had a siren and flashing red lights. The idiots were running around doing energy allocation manually, on a room-by-room basis. Zelenka hurried to a console, and Rodney exiled the crew to their respective quarters to think about what they'd done, and they set to work trying to put things right.

"This might go faster if you let them help," Radek remarked at one point.

"No, it wouldn't, and you know it. It would go much, much slower. You want me to play nursemaid on top of everything else? No, what would make this go faster if there were a single competent person in--hm! Actually." Rodney moved to his other laptop and called up his little AI experiment. The program was still in its infancy, but it might at least be better than the actual infants in Rodney's department.

"What is that?"

"Just something I've been fooling around with. A little program just to regulate some of the standard day-to-day functions of the city. Shields, power, life support, basic problem-solving..."

"In other words, things that you currently make me do."

Nobody ever said he didn't catch on quick. "Are they?" asked Rodney. "I hadn't noticed."

"It says 'Zelenka 2.0,'" Radek pointed out.

"Fine," said Rodney. "Let's have a little one-on-one, man vs. machine. What do you think we should do about the power interruption in B7?"

While Rodney typed the parameters of the problem to Zelenka 2.0, the living and breathing Radek mused, "The conduit may need manual repair. We have to reroute through the other major arteries equally or we will keep causing overload. I think the others were trying to reroute through unused conduits to relieve pressure on the main system, but they are unused for a reason. We can keep running through the east tower, though; it looks fairly stable, and if we blow something up out there, nobody will get hurt."

"Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm." Rodney frowned. "Okay, Zelenka 2.0 says to shut the whole system down and then turn it on again."

"I see. And leave the gateroom without power for how long?"

"Okay, well, obviously, it needs some tweaking." Rodney stepped back from the laptop, looking longingly at the barebones UI. "Someday."

"That would work, though," said Radek thoughtfully. "The system is set up to choose optimal pathways which are not actually optimal, but it would give us a better starting point than this. It probably is the fastest permanent solution."

"It's also the easiest brute-force solution in the book," said Rodney. "Essentially I've trained a monkey to say 'Reboot.'"

"Does the program give a reasoning for its solution?"

"No... but it can, easily."

"At least for testing purposes," said Radek.

"Yeah, and maybe in general."

"Also, it should offer several alternatives."

"Not that you do that."

"The program can be better than me."

"Absolutely. I can set that up right now," said Rodney, opening the code. "Maybe you should be able to weight the importance of different factors in a given situation--you know, keeping the system running versus speed versus reducing collateral damage..."

"Of course, the options would change depending on the parameters of the problem."

"True, but there are some universals. You know, you probably should have been involved in this project from the beginning."

"I was going to say," said Radek modestly.

 

**Wednesday**

Rodney decided, after fixing the most egregious errors, that the appropriate punishment for the lab rats was to make them clean up the mess they'd created, and he set them to it, checking on them sporadically, while he and Radek holed up in a conference room and worked on the program.

It turned out that Radek had a recent and ongoing interest in artificial intelligence. He was surprisingly knowledgeable about psychobiology and weirdly fond of talking about "the human machine." Together they created an unstoppable flood of ideas: how to replicate, approximate, and improve upon human decision-making algorithms; how to provide the program with suitable information; how to create a framework for self-improvement, teaching the program to learn.

In the evening they moved to the mess because Rodney was starving. Sheppard was just leaving as they came in and he shot Rodney a thumbs-up. Rodney was confused for a moment, and then remembered that, as far as Sheppard was concerned, he was involved in a scheme to convince Radek to stay by being kind to him. Well, that had fallen by the wayside some time ago. Still, it had sort of happened, without his meaning it to. He hadn't really been actively mean, anyway, not in any way that counted. He'd called Radek an idiot ten minutes ago, but it was in the heat of a coding argument and he deserved it, and anyway, Rodney had never been more certain that he wasn't taking it personally. It said a lot, for example, that Radek currently felt comfortable enough with Rodney to put his hand over Rodney's face and push him away while he was talking.

"Go over there. Just watch," said Radek, drawing the keyboard close. "It's easier to do it than to explain it."

"But it's easier to shoot you down after you've explained it than after you've done it," said Rodney.

"Go eat a cake."

In a fit of altruism Rodney brought back four helpings of cake, so that Radek could have one. He needed it to keep up his energy for all that superfluous coding.

"You're reinventing the wheel," said Rodney over his shoulder. "Go back to the beginning. What's the first thing we did?"

"That was different. We needed..." Radek tabbed over and read the code. "Oh. I am an idiot."

"Right. You're really not, though," said Rodney. "You shouldn't let your proximity to me lead you to underestimate your own intelligence, which, objectively, is quite... I mean, if it weren't for me... Well, you'd be dead, and so would everyone here, but: maybe you wouldn't have all died quite as soon as I have been known to suggest, because I bet you would have stepped up to the plate."

Radek smiled slowly, really touched. "Thank you, Rodney," he said. "That is the nicest thing you have ever said to me."

Rodney waved his hand, an "it's nothing" gesture. People were right. Help others, and you do help yourself! He felt glowy and warm, and he couldn't keep a grin off his face.

"I will remember you said that," said Radek, "when I am on Earth."

Rodney's smile abruptly twisted into a scowl. Right. That. Of course he hadn't really believed that a sort of niceish time on a beach planet and some honeyed mumbling would make Radek change his career and life plans, but then, actually, he _had_. He felt disgusted and cheap: he'd given away a genuine compliment for nothing. So much for being nice!

"Give me that," he said, grabbing the computer. "You're wasting perfectly good keystrokes."

"I am in the middle of a line, Rodney."

"The lights are still flickering!" Rodney yelled. "Don't you think that's a little more important? Go, go fix it, and while you're down there, you better boost up morale with the staff. I think they're all in tears, and if they're not, I'll give them something to cry about."

Radek looked up, confused, maybe even hurt. "But, we..."

"Go, already!"

Radek huffed off with an almost visible stormcloud over his head, which gave Rodney some dark pleasure. Let him be punished for his desertion.

 

**Thursday**

In the midst of everything else, Rodney took as much time as he could to plug away at Zelenka 2.0. In a few days, he'd really need it.

Rodney had given Radek a long list of menial tasks to keep him out of the way (and, okay, bother him), but he still showed up at Rodney's door in the middle of the morning, waving a tablet. "I had some ideas. I wrote them down."

"Bully for you," said Rodney. "How are you doing on the flight diagnostics?"

Radek frowned. "I thought you were supposed to be reassigning my tasks in preparation for my move."

"I thought you were supposed to be _finishing your work_ in preparation for your move," said Rodney. "I really can't justify starting you on any new initiatives right now. See ya."

 

**Friday**

Avoiding Radek had all the advantages of avoiding the lab and everyone who worked in it, and all the disadvantages of avoiding the mess. After submitting to an early-morning run with Sheppard, he packed a couple of brown-bag meals and went to a balcony in the east tower.

He worked on the program for most of the day, checking on the city remotely every few hours (okay, minutes) to make sure nothing had gone horribly horribly wrong.

The circumstances that morning were ideal for progress. He was alone, uninterrupted, a cool ocean breeze on his face, three laptops open in front of him, an array of quietly blinking readouts keeping him clued into the city while he worked. Whatever slump he'd been in before he started collaborating with Radek was gone. He was pleased to discover that he was perfectly capable of having and implementing excellent ideas without any help, thank you. He'd needed someone to bounce ideas off of earlier, but really, anyone could fill that role. Probably. Anyway, he'd have a working prototype of Zelenka 2.0 soon enough.

His peace was interrupted shortly after second lunch, when who should come clomping onto the balcony but Radek Zelenka 1.0.

"Another thing that I do not appreciate," said Radek, as if they were already in the middle of a conversation. "The constant disappearing."

"How did you find me?"

"You think you are the only one with access to the good life signs detector? Here." He held out one of the little Ancient thumb drives. "My improvements to the program."

"Is that what you've been wasting your time with? I guarantee there's nothing on here I haven't already done myself. I know you haven't done a single one of your assignments--"

"I delegated--"

"That explains why they haven't gotten done! Dammit, Zelenka--"

"You can't get my interest with a good project and then take it away!"

"I think I can! I think that's exactly what I can do! You should consider it a compliment that you're the only person I trust to do all those mindless yet essential tasks."

"This is exactly why I am leaving. You don't give a damn about what would be interesting to me--"

"I don't give a damn what would be interesting to you _because_ you're leaving!"

"--or how to best use me. I am a resource--"

"You're a jackass, is what you are."

"I have no control over my own destiny. You decide you don't like me, so I have to do the work of a lab tech--"

"Oh my god, let it _go._"

"You decide to get lost offworld, so I do all your work--"

"To be fair, that's hardly a _decision_\--"

"You decide you want company on a terrible mission, so I go to the beach!"

"That, for your information, was me trying to do a goddamn nice thing for you before you left, and send you away with some goddamn good memories of the goddamn Pegasus Galaxy, and hey, maybe you'd even change your mind and decide to stay a little longer, but what I didn't count on is you being an insufferable, impossible-to-please little bastard who I don't ever want to see again for the rest of my life!"

"Fuck you too!"

They were standing inches apart staring each other down, and their gaze held for such a long moment that Rodney was sure one of them (he didn't know which) was about to draw a weapon from somewhere and end this thing once and for all, but instead Radek grabbed Rodney by the shoulders and pressed their mouths together, and Rodney, high on adrenaline, was holding his face and pushing his lips apart before it occurred to him to think that this was a bit weird. The this-is-weird alert didn't turn into a screaming siren until they parted and looked at each other. Rodney stumbled backward, seriously considering hyperventilation. Zelenka blinked rapidly, muttered "Erm," turned, and fled.

 

**Saturday**

Rodney didn't have to work to avoid Radek; the aversion was, today, mutual. He did some work around the lab, then ate with the team and hung around afterward tinkering with the program.

Radek had, of course, worked on the same parts of the program Rodney had already written on his own, but he'd done it differently; not worse, exactly (okay, a little worse, in terms of efficiency and runtime), but very different in some interesting ways. Rodney decided to give Zelenka 2.0 access to both his and Radek's problem-solving strategies. Why not? Humans (the good humans) use a variety of decision-making tools. Anyway, the whole program was based on finding fast and dirty best-fit solutions to problems with incomplete data, multiple input streams, and competing needs and priorities. Forcing the program to compare complete or partial solutions obtained simultaneously through different means would coincide nicely with the overall philosophy of the program, and it would be easy enough to implement, since they essentially had the underlying algorithms written already.

The integration was a little tricky--he spent a few frustrating hours ironing out some really weird bugs--but when it came together, it was like magic. Somewhere along the line, they'd lit the spark of greatness. When Rodney fed the program a log of the problems of the last week, its solutions were inspired. A couple were the same solutions Rodney and Radek had come up with at the time, and which had been successful; more were solutions which they had considered and rejected for one reason or another, but which, had they gone ahead with them, would not have resulted badly; one was a solution which the American or Armenian technician had suggested, but you can't win 'em all; one was a solution Rodney hadn't even considered but which would probably have worked even faster than his own.

He went back to the lab where, sure enough, Radek was taking advantage of his absence to get some work done.

"Thought I'd find you here."

"I am leaving now," said Radek.

"Don't," said Rodney. "I want to talk to you."

Radek stiffened, visibly uncomfortable, and Rodney hastily added, "About the project. I worked in your code with mine. Look."

Radek smiled when he read the output log. "It produced these results?"

"All by itself. Kinda makes you proud, huh?"

"Is it as good as me yet?"

"Better already," said Rodney.

"Let's write the implementation module--"

"One step ahead of you," said Rodney. "I think it's about ready to go now. We just need to section off a subset of the city for a testing area. I figured we'd just have it run everything for a small section with low or no habitation, and see how it does compared to the human idiots running the rest of the show. If the test goes well, we can propose expanding it to the rest of the city."

"I leave Monday morning," Radek reminded him.

"So we'll make sure to iron out all the problems in the next thirty-six hours. What, you have something else going on?"

"I have very many assignments to finish..."

"Screw that," said Rodney. "You're on this."

"As you say," said Radek. "You select a section, I will check the new code for impending disaster."

"Good plan."

They settled into their respective jobs. Rodney began to fidget. Normally during fairly routine or mindless work like this, he'd talk to whoever he was with (actually, he talked during most work, although during intensely difficult tasks he actually talked about the subject at hand). The silence between them was rapidly becoming conspicuous.

When he couldn't stand it anymore he burst out with "Is it weird for us not to talk about it?"

"Yes," said Radek. "But I am okay with it."

"Right," said Rodney, relieved. "Me too. I mean, it's not like--it was just a, an aberration."

"Precisely," said Radek. "It means nothing."

"Of course not," said Rodney. "Who said anything about meaning anything? I mean, what could it mean? That we--seriously, imagine you and me--what, dating?"

"Ridiculous," said Radek.

"I know! What would I tell people?"

"I could never hold my head up in the labs again."

"Not that you have to, of course, since you're leaving, which is yet another good reason--just one of a swirling galaxy of reasons--why we should just forget it ever happened."

"I have already forgotten," said Radek. "Actually, it is more reason for me to go, if we cannot work together without arguing or... et cetera."

"Right. Agreed," said Rodney. "Let's never speak of it again." With a firm nod, he turned back to his console and checked over the last of his preparations. "Hey. I think that's it." He looked up, grinning. "Ready to go live?"

Radek smiled back. "I think so. I have corrected a few minor errors, but, as far as I could tell, your code was largely flawless."

"Some of it was yours," said Rodney modestly. "Five, maybe six per cent."

Rodney had selected the east tower for a testing site, and since he'd cut it off almost completely from the main city's systems by remote access for the purposes of the test, the easiest way to hook up Zelenka 2.0 was to go straight to the tower's local-area engineering lab (really more of a closet) and patch it in manually. This they accomplished quickly, and then... a distinct lack of any exciting activity.

"So..." Rodney watched the suspiciously normal system log. "Did we fuck up the connection, or is it, excuse me while I laugh, running perfectly on the first try?"

"It's definitely connected," said Radek. "Theoretically, Zelenka 2.0 is in complete control of the east tower now."

"Theoretically," Rodney repeated.

"It is apparently running according to specifications. There are simply no problems for it to solve."

"Great!" Rodney rubbed his hands together. "Let's break something."

Radek didn't miss a beat. "Fire or flood?"

"Oh, let's have a flood. What did those idiots do to mess up the water system?"

"I think I can replicate it. Should we have brought swimming suits?"

"Eh, this room'll be safe, anyway."

Radek called up the tower's water filtration system. Watching him type, Rodney laughed out loud. "Wow. I don't even think I have the imagination to write code that bad."

"I'm sure you could do it if you tried."

"Hey, now. Don't forget to forget to end the subroutine."

Radek saved his changes, and the fun began.

"Ooh, it's detecting the error. So far, so good."

"Proposing solutions--choosing a solution. Hm. It was supposed to wait five minutes for human intervention."

"Not when time is critical. See, it knew the flooding would start in a hundred eighty seconds, so it took immediate action."

"I didn't realize we had thought of that."

"Didn't you read my code?"

"I skimmed."

"Philistine. Hey, it worked! Did it work? It worked, right?"

"I think it worked."

"It solved the problem before it even started. It's officially better than my entire science team. Hey, look at us," said Rodney, suddenly struck with the magnitude of their accomplishment. "We just invented the galaxy's first independent, self-teaching, intelligent city management system."

"Second," said Radek. "The Ancients probably had something like this."

"Well, look at us. We're modern-day Ancients!"

They watched Zelenka 2.0 run along smoothly. It detected a minor power fluctuation, corrected its calculations, and ran an automatic diagnostic.

"It's beautiful."

"Yes."

"Seriously, Radek," said Rodney quietly, turning to him. "Why would you want to leave this?"

Radek stared at the display. "We should have it produce a daily report of the probabilities of various actions based on the things it has learned so far."

"Are you nuts? It would already be ridiculously long, and it'll increase exponentially every day. Who's going to read through that? Maybe a digest form, or, hm. What if we--move, move, you'll see what I mean. Keep an eye out for errors, will you?"

 

**Sunday**

Rodney found himself bounding into the main lab the next morning before nine, even though it was his day off, and they had stayed up tweaking the program and just generally admiring its progress (still almost flawless) until after four. They'd left it running when they went to bed, because they would--or rather, Rodney would--need as much log data as possible when he proposed the program for citywide use. He immediately checked on the east tower on his laptop when he woke up, and everything seemed to be running fine, but he was anxious for more detailed readings.

Radek was already there, and the readings from the tower were scrolling by on the console, but he wasn't looking at them. He was straightening up his work area, now startlingly bare and devoid of weird pictures of birds and darling Ancient-device cozies.

"Hey. What are you doing?" asked Rodney, even though he knew perfectly well. "Packing up already?"

"I leave tomorrow morning, and I have no more shifts on duty."

"This is not your computer," said Rodney, removing the laptop nestled lovingly in a dirty pink blanket at the top of the box.

"It has my name on it."

"I know, but it's not yours. Remember? The one you brought with you fried the first year."

"You said I could have this one."

"I said you could _use_ this one."

Radek stared blankly. "Do you want me to pay for it? Here." He dug through his things. "How much does a Dell cost? Five, six hundred dollars?"

"I don't want your money, I'm just saying, technically, this belongs to the Atlantis expedition."

"Rodney. Give me my computer."

Radek made a grab for it, but Rodney held on tight. "I just think looting from the company is kind of an unclassy move at this point!"

"What are you talking about, looting?" Radek yanked the computer back toward himself, though he didn't manage to shake Rodney's grasp. "By now, everything we have been through, I have earned it!"

Rodney yanked it back. "That logic makes no sense!"

"All my personal files are on it--"

"And whose fault is that?"

Radek kicked Rodney hard in the shins, and Rodney stumbled, but only tightened his grip on the laptop. Radek, also holding tight, stumbled forward at the same time, and Rodney got in a swift elbow to the face, knocking his glasses off. The outlook was looking pretty grim for the survival of either the computer or the glasses, when the lights suddenly flickered out, and the usual steady hum of machines abruptly died. Rodney and Radek froze mid-scuffle.

A moment later the lights and the hum whirred unsteadily back on again, and Carter's voice came over the radio. "Rodney? Is something going on with the power?"

"Uh..." Rodney flipped open the laptop, which jumped out of sleep mode a lot quicker than the hooked-in main console managed its power on self test, and called up the current city systems status reports. "Okay, I've identified the problem," he said calmly. "It appears some untested software has gotten mixed up in the main power array."

Radek's eyes widened in realization as Carter's voice asked, "How soon can you fix it?" and Sheppard's voice cut in "McKay! Is there a reason my room is about a thousand degrees?"

"Okay, yes, yes, yes, on it now. Call you back," said Rodney, snapping off his radio, and grabbing Radek by the arm.

They didn't discuss it; they just went straight for the east tower lab. As far as Zelenka 2.0 was concerned, that was main engineering. Rodney immediately sat down and pried up the floor panels.

"How did it take control of the automatic system functions?"

"It's got to be the algorithm for coordinating your code with mine. We barely tested that on its own, much less in interaction with existing programs. It's comparing the city's code with its own, and then choosing one method and overriding the other. The question is, how did it even connect with the rest of the city? I checked everything!"

"Ahem." Radek nodded at the floor, where Rodney's laptop was busily scrolling status updates, the bluetooth flickering cheerily.

"Oh my God. I'm braindead!"

"We both are," said Radek.

Rodney disabled the wireless, but it was too late. Zelenka 2.0 had taken control of all of the city's automatic functions, and it was doing about as good a job as a roomful of monkeys. Even the term "roomful of monkeys" in its usual sense--i.e. the entire day staff of the lab--was insufficient to describe the incompetence of this program. An actual room of wall-to-wall screeching primates would have done a better job taking care of the city.

"What the hell is it doing? What happened?"

"Perhaps we should shut it down first, and figure out what went wrong later," said Radek. Then he got to work shutting it down, so Rodney felt free to figure out what went wrong.

"Good lord, have you seen this code? This is ridiculous. Did we write this?"

Radek looked over his shoulder. "Yes."

Rodney lapsed into silence, punctuating the sound of Radek typing away beside him with the occasional "Hm" or "What?" or "Oh."

"Rodney. Can you tell me--"

"Okay, you need to not interrupt me, because every time I look away from this and look back, it turns into gobbledygook. Is this what you feel like all the time? I--oh oh oh oh. Shhh, shut up. Wait. What was your question?"

"Never mind."

"I vaguely remember writing this, but why... We seriously need to learn to write documentation or at least comment things out."

"I have been telling you that for years."

"Yes, well, usually it's a waste of time. Actually, if we'd done it this time, we wouldn't even have finished in time to..."

"Destroy everything?"

"Well. Yes. I still don't even see where the problem is. All of this worked last night! Even if it did go on a rampage and take over the city, that should have been fine! That was the future plan!"

"We never tested it on such a large scale..."

"That shouldn't matter."

"There are a lot of places where it could have gone wrong. I freely admit I don't really understand everything that you did to it--"

"What _I_ did to it? I will honestly bet you one million dollars right now that it was your code that fucked it up."

"You didn't debug?"

"I skimmed! What was that?"

"The door is sealing. It is not safe to emerge."

"Yeah, I got that, Captain Obvious. Why?"

Radek calmly flipped to a city diagram. "Ah. Flooding again."

"Delightful. We're stuck here. Not that we're any closer to solving this."

"I have almost eradicated the corrupt code. City functions should return to automatic control in a moment, and then the team in lab will simply have to return the settings to normal."

"Oh, that'll be a cakewalk for them. Also? We must have been really in the zone when we wrote this, because it's... Well, it's really actually quite beautiful. Some of our best work. Yours, certainly. I can't figure out why it freaked out like this. I mean, the program got pretty complex, sure, but that's the point! Smart software!"

Radek looked up. "Rodney..." His tone was low and serious, and there was something in it that made Rodney sit up and take notice. "What if..."

Rodney didn't need him to finish the sentence. "Holy," he breathed. "You think?"

Radek glanced down at his hands, poised over the keys, and then looked up again, wild-eyed. "I deleted it!"

"Don't--hey, you didn't know! Anyway, we have it backed up--"

"It isn't the same--"

"Yeah, but--Whoa. Okay. Okay. Umm. What did--Right. Shit. We need to make a complete and detailed list of all the ways it went wrong."

"You think it was trying to communicate?"

"I don't see another logical explanation for the randomness of these errors. Radek!" Rodney tried and failed to suppress a grin. "We're not just Ancients. We're gods!"

Radek was grinning, too. "It is wrong to be happy about this, but--"

Whatever he was going to say could wait. Rodney ducked forward and stopped him with a kiss. Radek seemed happy enough to stop talking and to take Rodney's face in his hands.

If Rodney had ever taken a moment to think about what it would be like to make out with Radek (as it happened, he had not--it was Dr. fucking Zelenka, of all people), he'd have predicted it would be weird and awkward. And it was, in a way. Neither of them were especially smooth or graceful people. But their enthusiasm made up for their lack of coordination. Almost immediately the kiss became a long string of frantic, searching, desperately curious kisses, separated only by gasping breaths. Rodney's restless hands flew up and down Radek's back, feeling the comforting and familiar and surprisingly-muscular body beneath the uniform. He hadn't been with a man since college but he was suddenly flooded with fond memories of the head he'd given and received then. Okay, this? Best plan ever, even from Rodney's frame of reference. Here they were, trapped indefinitely in the--

"Dr. McKay? Dr. Zelenka? Are you in there?"

Suddenly Rodney was aware of various bangs and shouts and water splashing sounds on the other side. He and Radek stared at each other, frozen mid-grope.

"Hello! Is anyone in there?"

"I suppose," said Rodney grudgingly, "we should probably answer."

Radek said a very long and angry-sounding sentence in Czech which concluded inexplicably with "I agree."

"Hi, yes!" Rodney called. "In here!"

"There! In there, everyone! All right, hang tight, docs! We'll have you out in five minutes!"

Rodney made a face. "Great!" he called. "Thanks, thanks very much! That's peachy!"

"No problem!" the marine responded brightly.

Rodney stepped away from the door and wiped his swollen mouth. "So, um..."

"Sorry," said Radek.

"No, no, it's good. I mean, if you want to know the truth, I'm beginning to regret that we never did that, you know..." While we still had time. "Sooner. I just--well, I guess I never thought of you in that way."

"Likewise," said Radek, a little too fervently.

"How come you never told me you were, ah, inclined in the direction of... gay?"

"You never asked," said Radek. "Also you never listened. Also when I tried to tell you any detail of my personal life, you made vomiting sounds."

"Yes, well," said Rodney. "I guess I assumed it would be more 'I've been reading all of _Dune_' or 'I've started taking a multivitamin,' and less 'I've been sleeping with men.'"

"Mm," Radek nodded. "Your assumption was not incorrect."

Suddenly concerned that he had been giving off an unintended aura, Rodney asked, "How did you know I... that I was, or would want..."

"Please," Radek smiled insufferably. "I have seen the way you look at Colonel Sheppard."

"What! What way? You mean, 'annoyed'?"

"No," said Radek. "Lustful."

"What? How do you confuse those two? You're crazy!"

"I call them like I see them," said Radek staunchly.

"For the record," Rodney scowled, "this would be 'annoyed.'"

The marines broke through the door about twenty minutes after the initial estimate of five had elapsed, and Rodney cursed the marine for giving such an inaccurate estimate, because there were several things he could have done with that time. After they were escorted back to main city, they had to submit to good-natured once-overs by Keller, despite Rodney's protestations that he had done nothing out of the ordinary or physically taxing (that he wanted to discuss). Keller elected not to ask.

Radek caught up with him as he was walking back from the medlab. "Rodney? I have been thinking. The randomness of those errors..."

"I know," said Rodney. "They were probably just random."

They stood for a moment, staring morosely down the corridor.

"For a time." said Radek, "I really thought we had created an eerie humanlike lifeform too malformed to be controlled, yet too sentient to be ethically killed."

"Me too," Rodney sighed.

"Maybe next time?"

"Yeah," said Rodney. "Only you leave at 8:25 tomorrow morning, and it's..." He checked his watch. "6:15 tomorrow morning."

Radek swore under his breath.

"What is it?" asked Rodney, and of all the things he'd said and done today, this, for some reason, was the one that set his heart pounding. "Don't you want to go?"

Radek shook his head. "I have not finished packing."

 

**Monday**

Rodney shuffled from console to console. He knew he should be grateful that everyone had taken him up on his blanket permission to see Zelenka and the rest of the weekenders off, because the last thing he needed was overzealous underlings slithering underfoot while he was trying to sort out every system in the entire city. Still, the lab was sort of depressingly empty.

"Hey." Sheppard was leaning in the doorway. "You coming to the big to-do?"

"Actually a little busy at the moment. You may have noticed a couple of slight glitches in, oh, everything?"

"Come on, Rodney, you still have five minutes to say goodbye to Dr. Z."

"Mm, yeah. I think I'll pass. You can tell him I said 'hey.'"

There was a pause and Rodney assumed Sheppard had left until he heard him say, "You gonna miss him?"

"He's a useful resource," said Rodney. Okay, why was he lying to Sheppard? Damn him if he was going to prove Radek right. He announced, "I kissed him!"

"You... Okay," said Sheppard, in a slow, you're-crazy drawl. "You mean like a 'Judas, must you betray me with a kiss' kind of a kiss, or like a hot scientist-on-scientist action kind of a kiss?"

"The second one," said Rodney.

Sheppard blinked. Well, he shouldn't have provided the option if he didn't want Rodney to select it. "That's... great, Rodney." He shook his head and turned away, but before he left, he asked, "Did it work?"

"No," Rodney admitted. "He's still going."

"Well, nobody can say you didn't try your best." Sheppard flashed a grin. "At least you're sending him back with happy memories, right?"

"True," Rodney agreed; and then realized his mistake, and eyed Sheppard suspciously. "Are you making fun of me?"

"Yep," said Sheppard. "I'll tell him you said 'hey.'"

Rodney waved him off and returned to his work. He didn't notice how much time passed while he was at it; certainly didn't notice when 8:25 came and went. At 8:27 he thought about making a new org chart. At 8:28 he decided it was too soon. At 8:31 he considered it again because otherwise he would have to start on the paperwork and, shudder, documentation. At 8:33, a discrete cough interrupted the silence.

"Listen, Sheppard, I don't have time to--"

But it wasn't Sheppard at the door. It was Radek, wearing a backpack, and holding a poorly-packed carton of stolen office supplies.

"I heard there was an opening in your department," he said. "If you'll have me."

"I... well, I..." Rodney blinked. "I thought you were otherwise engaged."

"I had an offer, but I have decided that Atlantis would be a better place for me at this time, professionally and personally. It is the home of somebody that I care for deeply."

"Oh. Well. That does sound..." Rodney closed his eyes and let out a long breath. "God. Zelenka."

Radek put his box down on the table and leaned over to try to read his expression. "Annoyed or lustful?"

"Neither. Both. Come here."

**Author's Note:**

> I remember being pretty excited about the movie _Two Weeks Notice_. I had this idea in my head, just from the title (and perhaps the trailer) that the plot was going to be as follows: Smart, sassy Sandra Bullock gives two weeks' notice because her playboy boss Hugh Grant uses her as his own personal assistant when in fact she is capable of so much more; once she quits, Hugh realizes he can't live without her; over the course of the two weeks, he has to win her company loyalty... and her love! When I watched it, though, I was disappointed, chiefly at the way the titular fortnight was just sort of thrown in the middle of this drawn-out story. The unity of time was what this premise had going for it, and they stomped all over it! In this story I have purposely corrected that error, and I hope that, in so doing, I will be able to finally put to bed my famed _Two Weeks Notice_ rant.
> 
> I chose to write this as McKay/Zelenka, both because I think the pairing works well for the storyline (as there is a clear boss/employee relationship) and because it was about damn time for me to write Radek Zelenka as a romantic lead. I have only been going by "Zelempa" for what, a year? Two?
> 
> Although I had two months to write this story, I did not end up doing it until (appropriately enough) the last two weeks. I finished it the day before it was due. My hearty thanks go out to my two betas, Yolsaffbridge and Erda, who listened to me whine and bitch and not write for weeks on end, and then speedily beta'd under totally unfair time pressure. Next I'm going to try calling them out of a wedding to pick out my ties.


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